


The Vacant Peg

by okapi



Series: Quiver 'verse [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Rings, Double Penetration, F/M, M/M, No Actual Pegging, Oral Sex, POV Mary Morstan, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Sorry Pegging Fans, Story: The Adventure of the Crooked Man, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9545048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: "You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that you have no gentleman visitor at present. Your hat-stand proclaims as much.""I shall be delighted if you will stay.""Thank you. I'll fill the vacant peg then." --The Adventure of the Crooked ManACD. Poly. Holmes/Mary Watson/Watson. PWP with feels.





	

She woke to a heavy hand on her shoulder and a voice less apologetic than it ought to have been.

“My dear.”

“Case?”

“No, patient.”

The silence that followed was decidedly pregnant. She waited to learn what or who was the sire.

“Holmes is here and, for the first time, requesting the use of our guest quarters.”

Ah.

She was resting on her side, her half-smile pressed into the pillow.

“You may extend whatever invitation you feel is proper, John.”

The tone was one she might have used to ask the time of day from a stranger on a train rather than to grant another man, in her husband’s absence, leave to warm their marriage bed.

“He may keep you company until I return?”

“He may.”

It sounded like a royal edict, and she burrowed deeper under the bedcovers to hide her grin.

Queen Mary!

* * *

His weight dipped the mattress low; his long, lean form pressed to her back; his hot breath tickled her ear.

“Mrs. Watson.”

Truly, the greatest unsolved mystery of all time was how he could infuse that simple phrase with so much significance and sentiment.

Her reply was a purr.

“Mister Holmes.”

She’d wanted to match his solemnity of his tone, really she had, but her body was far too impatient. She quickly unlaced the bodice of her nightdress and slipped one arm out of short lace sleeve. Then she curled that same arm behind her, reaching up until she touched slicked hair.

His hand snaked under her arm, pushing the nightdress further down her torso and cupping her exposed breast.

She sighed.

Yes, that’s what she had wanted, what she had wanted since the words had fallen from her husband’s lips. She’d wanted that hand with its long, mottled fingers, holding her pendulous flesh, not kneading or groping, but simply holding her, and more importantly she’d wanted that thumb traveling back and forth over her nipple, ever so slowly, just as it was doing now.

She drew her arm down and covered his hand with her own.

Stay, she silently urged. There. As if we have all night.

He kissed her nape.

“Thank you, Mrs. Watson, for allowing me the use of your bachelor’s quarters for one. I was pleased to see that you’ve no gentleman visitor at present.”

She reached behind her again, low this time. “Your hat-stand proclaims as much,” she said when her fingers found his half-hard cock.

He bit her neck playfully.

“I shall be delighted if you will stay,” she continued.

“Thank you. I’ll fill the vacant peg then.”

Despite the light inflection, his words conjured a wicked image, and she bit her lip.

His hand fell to her waist and he pulled her closer and curled his body even more tightly ‘round hers.

She looked over her shoulder, studying him through half-lidded eyes. The muscles of her shoulder began to ache. Her hand was still trapped between them, her fingers exploring, mapping his shaft from tip to base.

Then she touched something that was not warm, blood-filling, lust-hardening manhood.

Something foreign.

Her eyes flew open in alarm.

He kissed her furrowed brow. “I took the precaution of donning a device to forestall release.”

With one careful fingertip, she traced the ring ‘round his member.

“You harm yourself,” she admonished.

“Not in the least. I am merely ensuring that the gratification is as delayed as desired.”

She searched his face for more explanation, then a thought occurred.

“You wait for John.”

“Yes.”

He spoke quickly. Too quickly.

Then he was kissing her, and part of her was kissing him back, but part was not.

She pulled away and studied him once more.

She smiled.

The great Sherlock Holmes, what a picture he made!

Not fit for _The Strand_ , certainly.

Tousled hair like the plumage of a dark, disheveled, sleepy bird of prey. Nostrils flaring at noisy inhale. Chest heaving violently. Hand resting lightly upon her waist.

No, not resting.

Trembling.

Oh, dear God.

He was aroused. Of course, he was, but it was more.

He was painfully, desperately, achingly, maddeningly aroused.

Something new stirred. She wanted her pleasure, oh, yes, but she also wanted drive this beautiful man to the edge of sanity.

She was wicked, it was true, but she’d always been so.

“Perhaps you shackle yourself out of deference to our beloved, but perhaps,” her voice grew harder with every breath, “it is because you are nearly as eager as I am.”

She twisted sharply beneath his arm, then shoved him onto his back and crawled atop him. When she sat up, she yanked her nightdress over her head and tossed it aside.

Both of his hands were now on her waist. “I assure you, madam, that at this moment there” he began with confidence, but she rolled her hips against him and his voice cracked, “is no one more eager than I.”

“Are you quite certain, Mister Holmes?”

She leant down and, balancing on knees and one hand, lifted her body. Then she took his hand in hers and drew it between her legs. The knuckle of his curled index finger brushed her sodden mons.

His mouth fell open.

“That eager, Mister Holmes?” she asked pointedly. He was tracing her folds now. “Are you that eager for me?”

He shook his head like a caught-out schoolboy. “But nearly,” he added weakly.

She growled. She pinned his arms to the bed. She laid siege to his mouth, more bite and breath than kiss. She rut her lower half hard and fast against him, with the thick of cock, flattened to him by her weight, right beneath her sweet bud.

Oh, it was grand!

She rubbed and rubbed, but even as her pleasure mounted, she noted that his hands, now gripping her buttocks, shifted with every undulation.

The smallest fingers of both hands were creeping, creeping ever so slowly towards centre.

Oh, naughty boy!

She brought her lips to his ear as she came and gave a soft, shuddering sigh.

“ _Sherlock_.”

And then it was he who was growling and her who was being tossed like a ragdoll and pinned on her back and then there were bruising kisses and feral bites and clumsy pawing. She clung to him through it all, feeling his world-renown composure return, bit by bit.

“ _Deference be damned, I am sorely tempted to unshackle myself and fuck you, madam!_ ”

Coarse theatrics.

He would do no such thing.

Inscrutable.

John had once remarked off-handedly, “To Holmes, women are inscrutable.”  

She wondered.

She was, at this very moment, literally laid bare before—or to be more precise, beneath—him.

“Mister Holmes, do you have a good estimate of my husband’s time of arrival?” she said evenly, as if she weren’t nude and nearly folded in two.

“I do.”

“Might it be possible for to greet him with the sight you buggering me senseless as you are so fond of doing to him?”

Her words must have hit him like a shot, for he fell limp atop her with his face buried in the crook of her neck. The weight of him was, in fact, painful, but she didn’t care. She had her answer. Yes, she could surprise the great Sherlock Holmes.

His words were muffled. “Not possible, madam. Highly probable.”

“Stretch me?”

“With all due care.”

“Fill me?”

“Exquisitely.”

“Spend yourself inside me?”

“With all due haste.”

“Leave me with memory and ache?”

He snorted, then pressed his teeth into her shoulder’s ridge, then he lifted his head and grinned.

“Ruthless woman! How merciful is Providence to not have given you a taste for criminality,” he dropped his head to bite her again, “well, save the villainous torture of the two men who love you most in this life.”

No.

She put a hand under his jaw and brought his head up once more.

A parry for her thrust? A cavalier jest?

His grey eyes, indeed, his entire hawk-like, hard-edged countenance, softened. He shook his head.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, oh.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he crooned and folded her into his arms.

* * *

“It’s time, madam,” he said.

Polite but unnecessary. She’d heard the hansom, too, and knew the thud of her husband’s boots as well he did.

The room stank of sweat and impatience. She spared a fleeting thought for the airing that would be required later then stretched forward onto the bed and raised her arse in the air.

He gasped. She turned her head. The ring appeared on the bedside table.

She screamed into the mattress as he took her. Yes, her kind were once staked and burnt for their sorcery, weren’t they? But then she was being strapped into a vise grip, an iron maiden of sorts, and lifted.

The door opened.

John.

And then her husband, that magnificent, glorious, marvelous man to whom she’d pledged herself until her dying day, did exactly what she’d anticipated.

He closed the distance between them, grinning and unfastening his trousers.

He painted his freed cock sloppily with slick harvested from a jar tipped onto the bed and then, without a word, filled her cunt as the cock sheathed inside her burst into spasms.

* * *

“We waited,” she murmured, “because we love you so.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Holmes waited. You did not. You wrecked the poor man, Mary,” he scolded. “One would think you were in cahoots with the criminal classes of London, the way you treat their vanquisher.”

“’Cahoots,’ John?”

His eyes lit. “American, do you like it?”

“No.”

“Good, then Holmes will loathe it. I shall use it at every opportunity this week just to annoy him. Come, let’s clean him up and tuck him in. I’m also glad that he took my advice about the ring. There’s stubborn pride, and then there’s common sense.”

She shook her head.

This man.

“You are a wonder, my dear,” she said.

“Not really.” He kissed her shoulder affectionately. “I just love my queen. Goodness, this place reeks! It’s worse than the sickroom I just left. Mary.”

The last was a very husbandly whine.

“I will see it to it,” she assured him as she watched him bustle about with wet flannels and dry linen. “I suppose it’s a case? His original reason for visiting, I mean.”

“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll learn when he wakes.”

“You know, he loves me, John.”

“Of course he does, foolish girl. So do I, in case you’re curious.” He stopped his ministrations and winked at her.

She smiled. “I mean, he _said_ it.”

“Really? Good for him. I’m so pleased about the guest quarters, especially that bed. Now at least he’ll have a place to stretch his fathoms-long legs once in a while. All that hunching is detrimental to his spine, my dear.”

“You fuss like a wife.”

“You fuck like a sailor, even Capital Basil—were he conscious—would agree.”

She laughed a wicked laugh and lobbed a filthy pillow at him.

* * *

Part of her slept, part of her listened.

_Aldershot._

_11.10 from Waterloo._

“…you might be of considerable service to me."

"I should be delighted."

"Then, if you are not too sleepy, I will give you a sketch of what has happened, and of what remains to be done."

"I was sleepy before you came. I am quite wakeful now."

A cast of characters danced ‘cross her dreamscape.

_Colonel Barclay. Nancy Barclay née Devoy. Miss Morrison. Jane Stewart. Henry Wood._

_A storybook creature running up a curtain to catch a canary in a gilded cage._

_A crooked man._

“We shall find him in Hudson Street tomorrow, Watson, and meanwhile I should be the criminal myself if I kept you out of bed any longer."

Bedclothes rustling.

Wet noises.

“Watson.”

“Holmes, when I note the effects of the lavish attention you bestowed upon my wife’s arse, I cannot help but be inspired.”

A huff of feeble protest, and the room soon filled with soft moaning.

Finally, she heard her husband whisper.

“Turn. You’re hard again. Let me suckle you.”

“Watson. I…”

“I know, my dear man. I’ve always known. Let me, please. I thought of little else on the return journey.”

More wet noises.

Heavy breathing.

A cry.

Then a hollow threat.

“Watson, if you don’t allow me to aide you with—“

“Oh, you’ll be aiding me, you scoundrel, then you’ll be scampering off to your broom cupboard so I may have a moment’s rest beside my wife.”

She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She met him with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

“I hope you found your quarters comfortable, Mister Holmes.”

“Most comfortable. Thank you, madam.” He took the cup from her and sipped and grunted approvingly. “Watson.” He gave a nod towards the table. “Hurry, my dear man or we’ll miss our train. I seem to have overslept.”

She glanced down and caught her husband’s smirk reflected in the well-polished coffeepot.

“All right,” he said, throwing down his napkin. “I’m finished. Thank very much, my dear.”

And then the cup was back in her hand and a mustache was grazing her cheek and there was a flurry of hats and coats and farewells.

“Oh, Mister Holmes?” she called.

He turned back at the door.

“The missing piece of your case. Second Samuel, chapter eleven: ‘ _But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord_.”

His eyes widened. Then he grasped her hand and pressed his lips to it.

“My Queen,” he breathed and swept out the door.

She smiled at the hat-stand, divested of its foliage, then floated to breakfast table. As she drank from cup in hand and sank towards her husband’s newly-vacated chair, the day’s needs and wants began to crowd her thoughts.

A moment too late, she remembered the night’s adventure.

And when her tender arse struck the wooden seat, she grimaced and drained her cup.

So much for the vacant peg.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
